Love, If It's Possible
by Zapautumn
Summary: SYOC. Generations down the line, the work Maxon, America and Eadlyn have done to better Illea is unraveling. After much of the extended Royal Family dies in a less-than-accidental train crash, Grayson is confronted with his own Selection, both a distraction and a tradition, as he juggles a crumbling economy and his father's attempts to reinstate the caste system.
1. Chapter 1

**Hello all... SYOC is open! I'd love to incorporate as many characters as possible, so please feel free to send as many ideas as possible. This is my first SYOC but I want to keep an open conversation with many of you about your characters throughout the story, so I would prefer not to have Guest submissions. Thank you!**

The rain came down in streams, buckets, and waterfalls. The day was dark, dreary, and wet. The crowd of people standing in the cemetery wore black and held black umbrellas. It felt cliche to Grayson and Winter, but that was simply how it was. Somber faces, somber clothes, somber day. And the rain kept pouring down.

In front of Grayson, the inscriptions on the line of headstones were blurred by the rain, but he stared at them anyways, preferring the marble stone to the emotionless faces of the soldiers standing at attention, or, even worse, the tear-streaked cheeks of his younger sister.

Queen America Singer-Schreave, one said. It was older, resting next to her husband's stone, King Maxon Schreave _._ Behind them, a generation back, rested Queen Amberly and King Clarkson. Of the newest stones in place today, Queen Eadlyn Schreave was the furthest away- Grayson's great-grandmother finally was at rest next to her husband, who had died a few years earlier. It was remarkable, everyone said, that Grayson and Winter knew their great-grandmother for so long. Grayson had just turned 18, after all.

Then came the next headstones, Queen Kalia and King Elijah Illea, Grayson's grandparents. It was said that Elijah Illea had renounced his family, outcasts for their past intentions to overthrow the Queen despite carrying the namesake of the kingdom, in order to enter Queen Kalia's Selection. A truly romantic story. They were the last headstones as of yet to rest in the ever-growing line of the Royal Family's headstones. In a nearby plot, fresh tombs bore the names of Grayson and Winter's many aunts and uncles and cousins.

They'd all been coming to visit, the relatives, coming to celebrate the announcement of Grayson's Selection- an announcement that had now been postponed, due to the tragedy. Despite the King's best soldiers being at the forefront of investigations, it still remained a mystery how exactly the events of that day had unfolded… While the public was told it was a tragic accident that the train had slid off the tracks and crashed, killing the royal passengers on board, it was clear to the Royal Family that it was no such thing.

As the funeral service concluded, Grayson was escorted away with his sister and parents by armed soldiers. It had been short, for safety reasons, but discretely televised, so as not to disturb those present but still broadcast it to the rest of Illea. He snuck one look back at the headstones. His great-grandma Eadlyn hadn't been around much in private, only choosing to visit the palace for holidays once or twice a year. She wasn't too friendly with his parents or grandparents, mostly for political reasons. She thought the country was going downhill under Illean rule. She'd never really approved of King Elijah Illea, from what Grayson could gather.

Grandma Kalia and King Elijah had been much closer with the Crown Prince and his sister. They were around for every birthday, Christmas, and lived nearby so they could visit often. They had trained King Monroe for the throne and were full of advice for Grayson as he prepared himself to take his father's place sometime in the next few years. They were the grandparents everyone wanted to have.

As for the others… Grayson refused to give himself much time to think of his aunts and uncles and cousins. It was painful, and there were bigger things to worry about- at least, that's what he told himself. He couldn't be weak like his sister. Winter was only 15, a sensitive soul if there ever was one. She cried at the movies where puppies died, she couldn't bear to see anybody suffering. There was a reason Grayson was the Crown Prince- he could handle the tough decisions. Winter buckled too easily.

It didn't take long to reach the safety of the palace walls. Grayson was silent as his butler brought out new, dry clothes for him to change into and his maids carried away his wet umbrella and clothes. Dressed in a crisp gray button-up and slacks, Grayson's demeanor changed the moment he stepped out of the door. Happier, more confident, focused. Everyone might have been mourning, but the job of the Prince didn't simply disappear because of it. He still had work to do, and he couldn't let any weakness show. The threat of his family's death had everyone on edge- you didn't know who to trust, really, as any one of the people he passed could have been part of the plot to derail that train.

In his father's office, Grayson found King Monroe sitting at his desk, a mountain of paperwork in front of him and a huddle of advisors clustered around him. They parted for Grayson, and the King looked up smiling.

"Wonderful, Grayson, you're here. We were just going over the necessary paperwork for your Selection," King Monroe said. "Regretfully, we have no time to waste, and will be making the announcement on The Report this Friday. Letters should be sent out this evening, tomorrow morning by the latest." As he spoke, he held out a manila folder to his son. Grayson took it dutifully, and glanced at the first page inside. It was the application.

"I see you're asking them to list castes," he noted, looking around at the advisors, a couple of whom were shifting uncomfortably. "Do you think that's wise?"

The King nodded brusquely. "We all know it's the best thing to do at this point." He raised his eyebrows at Grayson, who nodded. He and his father were at an understanding.

Grayson had mixed feelings on this point. The caste system was too complicated and messy to abolish, though it seemed his ancestors had tried, and yet it was oppressive and despised by many of the people. The stigmas of the former castes never seemed to disappear, no matter how hard his great-grandparents had tried, and the few families that were able to pursue different occupations were faced with a harsh reality. The best jobs still went to the Twos and Threes, as did the promotions and the best salaries. Even the lower castes seemed content to only interact with their own numbers, but the detest for discrimination of the lower castes still remained.

Not only that, but times were tough. The economy was falling apart. The formal abolishment of the caste system had caused an influx of citizens vying for the best paying jobs, the highest prestige. Absolutely no one wanted the association of a Five or lower, but unemployment was at an all-time high. Spending was down. Everything was just falling to bits. King Monroe had to face the facts, his advisors said. The castes were distasteful, but they kept the economy going. Illea couldn't manage without them.

If Winter were in charge, Grayson knew, the caste system wouldn't even be on the table. That was why she didn't know it was being orchestrated by the King. She wasn't the heir to the throne, after all, she didn't need to know the politics behind every action.

Grayson sighed. The Selection was a tradition, but it always seemed to be more of a distraction for the people. His father was counting on him to publicly date thirty-five women in the hopes of finding a wife while investigations into his family's death were carried out, and while the King and his advisors desperately sought a solution to the crumbling economy. Up until now, the Selection had always been a political move to Grayson. It was just one more way to keep the people content while his father did his job.

But now, faced with the reality of it… Grayson realized he was expected to fall in love. _That can't happen on cue_ , he thought.


	2. Chapter 2

Hello everyone! Thank you so much for reading my story! The SYOC is still open, so please please please send in characters! This chapter took a while, but I'm hoping to add more soon.

I would also love your feedback, so feel free to PM me or leave a review. Thank you all!

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It seemed as if the funeral hadn't been the last cold day of the year. In the morning, Grayson woke up early to howling wind shaking his windows noisily. Not only that, but there was frost on the grass, and palace maids were shivering in their rarely-used winter gear as they carried potted plants from the gardens, covered in burlap sacks, into the heated greenhouses before everything froze. It would be another dreary day, it seemed, as if the weather was mirroring Grayson's mood. But, like the day before, he was determined to hide it. Even though the palace was draped in black for mourning, it was his duty to raise everyone's spirits, he knew. The Selection would hopefully do that for him, but with 35 guests coming to the palace in a mere two weeks, there would be no time for moping when there were preparations to make.

A cheerful smile spread over his tan face as Grayson left his room. It was too early for breakfast, but the wind made it impossible to go back to bed. He nodded to his butler, Gerard, before the door swung shut, and meandered through the halls toward his office. It was near his father's, of course- the Crown Prince's office must be near the King's in order to confer with him. But it still felt private, and Grayson figured he might as well get some work done.

Pouring over the papers was tedious, but a kind maid brought him a cup of coffee, which Grayson sipped greedily. The announcement would be made today on the Report. He combed through the application file once more. Name, age, province, caste. Those seemed the most basic. It asked for height and weight, as well, and a basic description of appearance, like eye color and hair color. There was a section for special talents, and a few other questions dotted here and there. In the introduction and instructions, it stated that applicants must present an official birth certificate before consideration, and there was a small box at the bottom that must be checked to agree to submit to in-depth questioning as part of a background check.

 _Wow_ , Grayson thought, _they're really taking this seriously._ In-depth questioning? What did that even mean? He made a mental note to ask his father about it, later, and moved on to the budget report that needed to be approved in order for the Selected to receive compensation.

The sun was intensifying just enough that it peeked through the heavy curtains when there came a knock at the door. Grayson shuffled his papers and cleared his throat.

"Come in," he said. The door swung open and his father peeked in.

"Grayson," he boomed, exuberant and forceful as ever. His father just had that image, like he was always meant to be king. He was thoughtful, wise, careful. He threw excellent parties and was a doting husband. He always had good advice for Grayson, and had raised his son to follow in his footsteps, carefully planning every move he made to improve the country and protect his family. Even his public image was immaculate, despite the recent outrage over the growing caste distinctions- it was as if King Monroe could do no wrong. Grayson only wished the public would view him so favorably.

"Hey," Grayson said, setting down his papers to focus his attention on his father. He wondered how his father knew where to find him.

"I just wanted to talk to you more about the Selection," King Monroe said, stepping in and shutting the door quickly, his voice dropping in volume significantly. "You know, without all the advisors around to hear."

Grayson nodded. The King meant business, and very serious business at that, if he wanted this meeting to be private. He slid his half-full coffee mug across the desk as his father took a seat in an empty chair. Monroe took it gladly and downed it in two gulps.

"I know this is a bad time to have a Selection, for you," Monroe started. "It's a terrible time for me as well, losing my parents so suddenly at whatnot." While he said it breezily, Monroe had raised Grayson, and they were alike in many ways. The same way Grayson had plastered on a smile and unbothered attitude, so had his father. The two of them shared a glance that conveyed how Monroe truly felt- deep, deep misery over the loss of his parents, the people who had raised him. Grayson couldn't even imagine losing his parents, he depended on them too much. "But it is more necessary than ever. These are dangerous times, more dangerous than even I had realized up until recently. I need you to be careful, now, and don't make any rash decisions. We need to keep the people unaware of how dangerous things are for as long as possible."

"Of course," Grayson said.

"I know in the past it has been common practice to send a few girls home right away, any that you just don't feel an immediate spark with… But don't feel the need to rush things. Take as much time as you need. People will love the added competition."

Grayson raised his eyebrows. "Isn't that a bit expensive?" he asked.

His father shook his head. "Not at all," he said. "I have things figured out. In fact, don't even bother with that budget report. It's handled, and the one you have wouldn't even be accurate, anyway." He held his hand out for the papers on Grayson's desk. Grayson hesitated a moment, then handed over the budget.

"Now, you know of course that part of the reasons for this Selection are too keep the people happy, and in the dark." Monroe paused and glanced at the door, and dropped his voice so low that it was almost a whisper. Leaning in, he continued, "You are not to tell anyone about the inner workings of this. We're not perfect, you and I, but we're devoted to this country, and would do anything to keep it running." When Grayson nodded, he leaned back and his voice returned to its usual volume. "But all that being said, this is also the time that you're going to find a wife, someone you love. It's a tried and true method, to be sure, but it's alright to be a little nervous. I know I was before I found your mother. Just know I'm proud of you, son."

Grayson smiled. "Thanks, dad," he said. It was informal, but it seemed the formal parts of the conversation had concluded.

As his father turned to leave, Grayson remembered. "Wait, I had a question. This right here-" he waved the application form. "What does it mean, 'submit to in-depth questioning?' What type of background check are we running?"

Monroe smiled. "No worries, Grayson. It's just part of the vetting process. We can't have just anyone showing up at the palace. That procedure is just a safety precaution. It won't be applied to everyone, just those whose background checks seem suspicious."

Grayson wasn't sure his father was entirely telling the truth, but he let it go. Politics were politics, after all, and he was sure he would find out eventually.

At breakfast, he caught a steely glare from his sister Winter.

"The Selection?" she asked contemptuously. "You're still holding that, even though we attended a funeral just yesterday for our _family members_? I can't believe you, Grayson."

Grayson shrugged at his sister. She was always getting worked up over something. "It's fine, Winter," he responded brightly. "Think about it- it's a great way to get everyone's spirits up. And there's two more weeks before anyone even comes to the palace. The people need something light-hearted right now, and honestly? It was time I had one. I'm going to be taking over in a few years, and I'd rather have a few years of marriage under my belt before then than have to adjust to being a new King _and_ having a new wife at the same time."

Winter narrowed her eyes, as if she didn't believe him. It was a well-worded lie, though, having been mixed with the truth, and eventually she swallowed it. Grayson turned back to his eggs and sausages. He hadn't lied completely- the plans were already set in motion before the tragedy, and it wasn't worth it to stop them. And it was a well-needed distraction. But did Grayson really want a wife? His thoughts turned sour. The only girls he ever met were either maids or foreign dignitaries, and neither bunch were very appealing to him. The foreign dignitaries were a wild bunch, always drinking too much and speaking a bit too freely about their opinions at parties. Many of them wore revealing dresses and flirted with Grayson, but he'd never felt any pull. His focus was purely on his role as Prince.

The maids, for the most part, weren't unattractive to Grayson, but it was beneath him to look at a Six, unless their parents were of a higher caste. He had little respect for those who willingly chose to venture outside of their caste, particularly a lower one- didn't they realize how much of a blow it was to the economy that people were choosing their own professions? But he also had to be grateful for their choice to be a palace maid. Maids were in great demand and short supply. All the lower castes, it seemed, wanted to rid themselves of manual labor and take on the professions of Twos. But it just wasn't feasible.

Grayson shook his head. He could worry about the economy all day, but it wouldn't fix anything. He needed to take things one step at a time.

His thoughts turned back to the Selection. It would be announced that evening, already. Even now, he realized that families with eligible daughters were opening their letters with wide eyes...


	3. Chapter 3

Thank you to the wonderful people who have submitted to me so far! I really do love your submissions! SYOC is still open, so keep sending in characters! I hope this chapter didn't come too late for you, it took me a while to write while sorting through character descriptions. More updates soon!

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Winter looked regal in her dress for the Report. It was midnight blue and had long, draping sleeves, fitting for a princess. She wore a circlet in her hair, a reminder to the public that she was still a Royal even if she wasn't the heir to the throne. She'd reluctantly agreed to shed her black mourning clothes for the public broadcast, but Grayson could tell the dark blue was a small rebellion on her part- so close to black it might as well have been.

But it was no matter, as everyone on set was running about excitedly. Even though he normally played a minimal role on the Report, it was all about Grayson tonight. After the usual announcements, the master of events would turn things to Graham, who covered all of the festivities at the palace, and that now included the Selection.

Grayson straightened the sleeves of his suit, nervous. His mother smiled at him from the Queen's throne, next to her husband's empty seat. The King was no doubt making last minute rearrangements to the order of the announcements made by his advisors.

"Excited?" she asked. "Terrified?"

Grayson relented and let a smile slip. "I'm not sure, both? A bit closer to terrified?" His mother laughed and took his hands. She'd been through this, too, Grayson realized. She'd been a Daughter of Illea. She'd sat on the other side, watching through her television screen as his father's Selection was announced. She'd won a first date, somehow, and she'd organized events and proved herself worthy to be a princess. She'd gone through it all. She'd even won the approval of Grayson's grandparents.

His grandparents… Grayson held his smile, but felt a twinge of sadness. They'd been so excited for him to have a Selection. Now they wouldn't be around to see who he chose.

"Don't worry," Queen Magnolia said. She, like her daughter, wore a darker colored dress, but her wine red was much more noticeable than Winter's near-black. Magnolia always wore dark colors, though. It was one of her ways of assuming the role of a Queen. Always regal, always mature. Only at festivals did she wear any lighter, more playful patterns.

"How am I supposed to do that?" Grayson asked.

His mother smiled. "There are thousands of girls out there who are going to apply. We only let in thirty-five. And you know your father will make sure those thirty-five are the absolute best. You can take all the time in the world to make whatever decision you need to make. The Selection is a tradition, but it has been effective for generations. For me, for your grandparents, all the way up to your great-great-great-great-great-grandparents. Everyone found someone they loved. That's how you know this works. And it's going to work for you, too. I don't know how, but I know it will."

"Thanks," Grayson said, but that was the end of their conversation, as King Monroe bustled over to take his seat and voices called for quiet.

The Report began. Stiff advisors in crisp suits were called forward by the master of events, announcing budget changes, foreign agreements, and local disputes that had been addressed. The announcements were shorter this week, as everyone was rushing to make time for Grayson.

Grayson and Winter sat on either side of their parents. Grayson didn't need to look at her to know she was upset, but she would be the only person around that disliked the Selection. Queen Magnolia and King Monroe were excited, and that set the mood for everyone else. Grayson couldn't understand what Winter's objection was.

Finally, it was time to make the announcement. Graham started talking, and soon the cameras panned over to Grayson, who smiled confidently, shoving his nerves aside. He stood up and tried to appear jovial, friendly.

"Yes, it's true, Graham," he said, cutting in after the last of Graham's introduction. "A Selection. This hasn't been a rash decision on my part- this has been in the works for some time. I am ready to throw myself into this. It's time I met my wife." He smiled confidently.

"Any ideas what you're looking for?" Graham asked seriously.

Grayson shrugged. "It's hard to say. Everything could change in a second, but I suppose one thing I've always imagined someone that's willing to do the hard thing because it's necessary. If I've learned anything from my father, it's that running a country is no easy task. You are constantly thinking about what's best for your people. I'm looking for someone who will sacrifice the way my father and mother do, in order to make this country a better place."

"Well said, Your Highness," Graham said, and everyone applauded politely.

Grayson took a deep breath and allowed the Report to conclude. As everyone was filtering out, Winter stormed up to him.

"We need to talk," she said.

"Fine," Grayson said, tired. His sister's attitude was getting on his nerves. Sure, she was upset that they were having a Selection. But she needed to get over it. He'd explained his reasons to her, already.

The two left the stage, stepping into a room that was empty for the night. Grayson crossed his arms, waiting for his sister to talk.

"This entire Selection is a ploy, and you know it, Grayson," Winter started. Grayson rolled his eyes. "It's not about you finding a wife, it's about forcing people back into their castes. People can't enter unless they fill out the entire application, including their caste. Did you know that?" She glared pointedly.

Grayson shrugged. He didn't know people couldn't enter if they left anything blank, but what did it matter? His sister just didn't understand. The castes were necessary.

"You're using this game show as a way to oppress our people!" Winter cried, then stopped and lowered her voice, suddenly worried someone might hear. "How can you be doing this?"

Grayson fixed her with a steely look. "Winter, your beliefs are founded on a knowledge of our country that only scratches the surface of what is true. You're worried about oppression of the people? There won't be any people to oppress if the economy collapses, because there won't be anything at all. People will starve out on the streets. This way, the Eights might have less than the Fours, but at least we can set up programs specifically targeted at aiding the lower castes. If you got your way, we'd be setting up welfare for the entire country."

"You can't possibly believe that," Winter retorted. Grayson sighed. Of course he believed it. He'd seen the budget reports, he'd seen the job distribution in the last census. And he'd seen the response to his father's attempts at reinstating the castes. The upper castes approved of the monarchy more than ever. The Prime Minister they'd kept around had been diminished to nothing more than an advisor on the council, a figurehead. People were fond of Grayson and supported his ascension to the throne. The Selection would only boost his popularity as people saw that he was serious about finding someone to be by his side before he took over for his father.

"Winter, I've spent my life monitoring our country's well being. This is what's best. You don't have to understand that, but you do need to realize there's nothing you can do to change this," Grayson said coolly.

"Have you seriously considered that you're going to be stuck with the girl you choose for the rest of your life? You're supposed to fall in love with someone? Do you even know what that's like? Do you know how to fall in love?" Winter laughed. "I doubt it."

Grayson rolled his eyes. "Do you?" he retorted. Winter glared at him, and he stalked off.

As Grayson stormed off, he realized. Winter was right… He didn't know how to fall in love. And he knew it.


End file.
